


Respiratory Pause

by beedekka



Category: Machete (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beedekka/pseuds/beedekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>In <i>Machete</i>, evil-do'er Michael Booth makes a classic Action Movie Mistake: failing to check that the person he's just killed is. actually. dead.</p><p>So, assuming Sniper isn't, what would he do with the rest of his day?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respiratory Pause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/gifts).



>   
> WARNING: The following story contains ' _Machete_ -world' attitudes and illogic, gratuitous nudity, cursing and half-assed special effects!
> 
>  **There is a brief description of ligature strangulation at the outset.**

  


Respiratory Pause  


  


 _Oh shit!_

Sniper’s hands flew to his neck, fingers scrabbling to get under the wire Booth was tightening there.

 _Fuck._

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen that coming! For damn sure he’d gotten complacent from sticking around in this job too long; he knew that now. He had some leverage under the cable, but Booth had him in a bad position, right over the desk. The height advantage was going to do for him unless he could kick Booth’s legs out or push him backwards.

 _Dammit, this can't be happening…_

The motherfucker had too much purchase on him, and it felt like he was pulling back on Sniper’s neck with all his might. Torrez’s grinning face on the monitor started to blur, and Sniper’s heart flipped – this was going to be it! All these years of dodging bullets and explosions and he was going out over a keyboard in an office. The blood rushed in his ears and the blur in his vision started to tinge through red, then grey, then… nothing.

 

***

 

Sniper blinked in surprise as he turned the corner of the house and saw April lounging on her back in the pool; her car hadn’t been in the garage or out front, and he’d presumed that none of the family was at home. He paused uncertainly, trying to decide whether to just walk past or to turn around before she saw him; he wouldn’t have thought twice about changing his route, had she not been flagrantly and – to be honest – eye-catchingly naked, her golden hair splaying out around her and the red paint on her toenails standing out where the tips of her feet broke the surface. He hesitated, staring, for entirely too long, until April suddenly looked up to where he was.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” she asked, “Or are you going to come…” She paused as she twisted around in the water. “…in?”

There was no correct answer to that, Sniper thought. What he _should_ do was mumble an apology and leave. He knew April got a kick out of winding up all the men in her father's employ, but to his knowledge, she never meant any of them to take her seductions seriously.

“What’s the matter? Are you afraid of what Daddy would say? Of what he would do if he knew you'd been watching me naked?” April slid through the water to the stairs, and Sniper stood rooted to the spot as she climbed out, his eyes inexorably following her figure upwards and then drifting back down. He felt his own body tingle, seeing the water running off her hips and thighs and dripping between her legs. She laughed, and he knew she was looking at his crotch, too.

“Have you seen my video, ‘April Showers’? I think you’d like it. I think it’s your thing,” she said pointedly, before nonchalantly walking over to her towel-draped sun-lounger.

He had a second opportunity to apologise and run, but he still didn’t take it, waiting long enough that April had gotten herself comfortable and begun to speak again.

“I need some help to put on this sun lotion; I can never reach all the places that burn on my own.” She held the open bottle of cream out in his direction and Sniper found himself walking towards her. This was flirting with danger, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. Closer up, he could see from the brand name that it wasn’t sun lotion, but he let April squeeze some out into his palm anyway.

 _In for a dime, in for a dollar,_ he thought as April discarded the bottle and reached out for his wrist, guiding his hand down onto the flat part of her chest above her breasts. Sniper steadied his other hand on the back of the lounger and took a deep breath, which sent her laughing again, her body shaking under his fingers.

“Your face is so serious,” she told him, inching his hand lower until it was resting on her left breast. “You look like you’re holding one of your guns in your hand, not one of these.” She slipped her other hand onto her right breast to indicate what she meant, and Sniper swallowed hard as he watched her circling her fingers around. Then April looked up at him and asked innocently, “Would you point your gun at me?”

His fingers twitched involuntarily as his mind skipped straight to the .45 under his jacket; he wondered if she could see it was there.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do with your trigger finger, Sniper?”

April pushed his hand lower again, and it skimmed on the lube and water down over her belly until he was resting on the smooth, shaved skin just above her pussy. She was looking him straight in the eyes, but her red lipstick stood out so much that his gaze kept flicking between her eyes and her mouth. The colour accentuated its shape, drawing attention to the way her lips were parted in what he interpreted as anticipation. Realising that he had just become the only one here bold enough to follow through on her come-ons - and how much that was turning her on - he consciously forced himself to concentrate on meeting her stare, just like he would focus through a scope. As he turned his palm and slipped his fingers between her legs, she shivered, and he felt a frisson of excitement himself. April was right – a trigger wasn’t the only thing he was good at caressing, and when he started to stroke, it didn’t take long before she was wet and trembling under his touch.

He couldn’t quite believe he was doing this: right by the pool; in front of all the security cams; with all the rent-a-goons patrolling the house... but when April arched up against his hand, gasping and biting her lip as she came, it felt like the risk was worth the reward. Still neither of them broke eye-contact as April reached for his fly, took out his hard cock and jerked him off so expertly that he had to bite back a moan as he shot all over her. They held their positions for a moment as he gathered his breath back, then she suddenly winked at him, rolled over off the lounger and dived into the pool. Straightening up, he quickly used the towel to wipe his hands, tucked himself back in and buttoned up, and took his cue to leave.

He was pretty sure now that April knew exactly when her father was due back, and when the next patrol would come by – hell, he could have worked it out himself, really – and also that he probably had just enough time to get up to the office and overwrite the exterior surveillance footage before anyone else checked-in there. He made a mental note to change his own routine; however familiar he had just got with April, Sniper was slightly surprised that she’d been able to get familiar with his sorties around the grounds. Things were going to get complicated if this happened again... He thought, not for the first time, that perhaps he had been here too long. Then he hurried to the patio doors and let himself back inside the house, his eyes momentarily blinded by the glare of the sun against the glass as he turned to secure them closed.

 

***

 

 _What the fuck?_

When the glare subsided, Sniper found himself staring at a ceiling that wasn’t his but seemed familiar. The location clicked as he heard Booth’s voice, and Torrez’s in reply, and he quickly shut his eyes.

 _That fucking motherfucker._

He could feel the USB wire still looped around his neck, looser now Booth wasn’t on the ends of it; Sniper entertained a brief idea of leaping up and role-reversing the situation on the old bastard, but the maxim of revenge being a dish best served cold came compellingly to mind.

He heard Torrez dismiss Booth, and guessed his boss was going to be looking straight at him as soon as he’d shut off the screen. Sniper carefully held his breath and hoped he wasn’t going to come over for a closer inspection; he could stop his breathing okay, but vanishing his pulse was a taller order.

“Sorry, my friend,” he heard Booth say, quietly.

 _The fuck you are,_ he silently replied. There was a moment of utter stillness in the room and Sniper felt almost overwhelmingly stifled once more, but then Booth’s footsteps moved towards the door and Sniper heard it open and shut behind him.

Opening his eyes again, he reached to feel gingerly around the back of his neck. Everything felt strangely normal, apart from pain in his throat and stinging from where he’d dug into his skin with his own nails. He shuddered – he’d been lucky that Booth had let him drop too soon instead of sticking put to finish the job after he’d passed out. It was a stupid mistake which the heartless, gutless asshole was going to pay for dearly.

Sniper got to his feet and tossed the USB cable onto the desk, before quickly making his own exit from the office. He presumed Booth would be instructing some of his idiot bodyguards to come and dispose of his corpse, so he didn’t want to hang around to run into them; not that they were any sort of threat, but Sniper preferred to fight from a distance rather than in close combat if there was a choice. His key objective was to get over to the basement as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He moved swiftly through the corridors, avoiding the rent-a-goons and making his way towards the back of the house. The one piece of luck in all this was that he'd left his car by the service entrance when he got back from the explosion this afternoon - it was a damn sight easier to drive away unseen from there than it was to go out by the front, and in 20 minutes he'd be back in town and reunited with his arsenal.

 

***

 

At the office block, he ditched the Mustang up the street and slipped into the parking garage on foot, heading to the elevator as fast as possible. He opened the doors and used his security key to activate the basement floor option, then he seethed while it made its way down. He'd known since the fiasco at the hospital that Booth's 'Day Labourer patsy' was the legendary Machete; he'd come straight back afterwards and started trawling records until he'd matched the guy's MO. Sniper knew he should have realised who it was the minute he'd picked out that weapon off the table yesterday, but what the fuck were the chances of Booth unwittingly grabbing _him_ off the street!? If discovering that his target was a fellow pro - and a respected one at that - had already put a spin on his attitude towards Booth's plans, then what had just happened had sent him reeling. He'd never had any love for Torrez, but he couldn't believe how readily Booth had screwed him over. This was a bitter end to what had been until now a pretty reasonable business relationship.

As the elevator juddered to a halt, Sniper looked up at the surveillance camera above him and angled himself so that it would get a perfect recording of his expression as he gave it a one finger salute. “Thanks for all the money and guns, you fucker!” he mouthed, before turning abruptly to the key panel and ripping it off. The security goons were so useless that he reckoned no one would check the camera footage for hours, and he could probably clear out every weapon, computer and file in the basement before they even realised he was inside the building. _Stupid dicks! Fix this if you can._ In a split-second he’d pulled out enough wires to jam the elevator where it was, just in case anyone did think to look for him here.

Stepping into the basement, he stopped short for a moment and tried to ignore the spike in the heart that told him this was the last time he’d ever be in this place. Not that anyone else would give a shit, but he’d spent a lot of time getting it exactly the way he wanted it – secret underground hideouts didn’t just organise themselves! He swallowed hard and quickly began to scan the shelves, making a mental list of everything he didn’t want to leave behind. If he was being ruthless he could just take his rifles and the cash, and burn everything else, but it was worth the extra time to cherry pick some of the higher-grade wire, tools and detonators, and to bork the hard drive on at least the main computer. Booth had duplicates of the more innocuous of the files, but there were plenty of hidden accounts and contact lists that Sniper had never shared with him. He certainly didn’t intend to now; nor did he fancy sharing them with the Feds, which was frankly more than likely to happen if he left everything as it was. The way this ship had been going down since Machete arrived on the scene, he didn’t rate Booth’s chances of keeping any of his shit under the radar for much longer.

In 10 minutes Sniper was done – a bag over each shoulder and a remote detonator in his jacket pocket, and he was hot to trot. For the first, and now only time, he hooked down the secret ladder in the far corner of the room and made his exit through the back door (or, vent shaft up into the street, as it was more accurately described). Typically, none of the goons hanging around the entrance 20 yards away even noticed him climbing out. He almost felt like making a deliberate godawful racket, just to see if any of them would actually turn around. Safely on the sidewalk, Sniper felt in his pocket for the detonator and smiled: they were going to hear _this_. He pressed the button and the ground shook as the basement ignited, sending every alarm in the office block wailing at once. Smiling even wider, Sniper hitched his bag straps up again and set off at a jog, disappearing into an alleyway before anyone saw him.

 

***

 

Luz leaned back against the hot metal door of Von’s truck and scuffed her heel in the dirt at her feet. The scrubby land where she’d parked was quiet and the air seemed to hang still around her; even the noise of the cars flashing past on the road in the distance didn’t make it over to where she was. She’d forgotten how calm this spot could be; she hadn’t used it for ages, but it was perfect today – she just hoped Machete had understood her cryptic directions.

She glanced behind her into the back of the truck where her guns were piled up, shimmering in the sun, and thought about the chaos of the last few hours. They had been in stark contrast to the quietude she was in now. Von and Torrez might be gone, and McLaughlin missing, but the vigilantes and profiteers were like a hydra – cut off one head and others would soon rise. At the back of her mind, she was worried that between them Shé and Machete had drawn the Network into a longer fight they couldn’t win. Luz covered her good eye with her hand and shook her head. No! Whatever happened, they’d done the right thing.

Suddenly, as though covering her vision had sharpened her other senses, she had the strange feeling she was being watched. Luz uncovered her face again quickly and scanned the land around her, reaching to grab a shotgun out of the truck. She thought she would have heard Machete coming, if it was him approaching… Luz repeatedly circled 360° until she was sure there was nothing moving around her, then silently chided herself for her paranoia. She was glad when a moment later she picked up the glint of a vehicle as it turned off the road, and she could make out the figure of Machete on his Chopper riding towards her.

“You found this place,” she observed as he pulled up and dismounted.

“Yeah, I got to the lock-up and all the maps were where you said. There’s a lot of heat in town, though. We’ve got to be careful going back there for a while.”

“Is Sartana okay?”

“She went in to the office. They’re pissed that all the evidence backs up what she was telling them. Stupid assholes.”

Luz was about to reply, but she was suddenly distracted by the feeling of eyes on her again. She was surer about it this time; someone or something was near them…

“Do you feel like we’re being watched?” she whispered, and Machete tensed up to alert straight away.

“No, but if you do, then we are,” he whispered back.

“Is it an animal? Someone by the road?”

They both looked toward the highway, and when they turned back, Sniper had stepped out from behind the truck. He watched them react, their faces a parody of surprise. “Don’t shoot,” he told Luz, calmly. “You-” he eyed Machete, “-don’t _cut_. I’m unarmed.” He held his hands out and splayed his jacket open so they could see he was genuine.

Luz and Machete exchanged a troubled glance, each wondering what the hell the sniper was unexpectedly doing there.

“I want to talk,” he explained.

“The confessional’s closed,” Machete snarled. “Padre’s dead.”

“I heard. I’m sorry.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?! What is this?”

“Look,” Sniper began, “I’m sorry for everyone who was lost at Von's yard today, too. As strange as this is going to sound, I tried to do what I could.”

Realisation dawned over Luz’s face. “It was you up on the roof!”

Sniper studied the dust at his feet and gave a near-imperceptible nod.

“You were at the yard _on our side_?” Machete asked, incredulously. “You crazy? All of us there would have seen you dead.”

“But no one saw me at all,” Sniper countered. He looked up at Luz. “You only knew there was _someone_ somewhere, ‘cuz I kept shooting out the guys in front of you.”

“I didn’t need your help!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d still be a crack shot too, first time out with half my eyes missing… I had your blindside, that’s all.”

Luz looked away sharply and Sniper regretted his blunt choice of words; he was considering saying something apologetic when Machete spoke up again.

“Why the hell _are_ you suddenly helping us?”

Sniper twisted his lips wryly. “Let’s just say my allegiance to Booth and our esteemed senator dissolved the second the former wound a wire around my neck and pulled it tight. And I’ve never liked that asshole Torrez, or Von Jackson. They can all rot.”

Luz looked back at him in disbelief. “Are you trying to say that you want to _join the Network_ instead?”

“The enemy of my enemy..." he offered.

"Is not your friend!” Luz retorted. “Network access is up to me, and I don’t know anything about you other than you’re on a retainer to Booth, you tried to kill Machete, and you blew up my house. So what makes you think our side actually wants you anywhere near it?”

“I made it clear that I don’t have any ties with that motherfucker now, not least because his corpse is all over the news! Additionally, your Network isn’t operating in peaceful times anymore; you might think how you could use the skills I have,” Sniper answered, involuntarily raising his voice to match Luz’s.

“Oh, let me guess: ex-military, gun-crazy, hitman-for-hire to the highest bidder. Well, we don’t trust grunts, we don’t want your crazy, and we don’t pay, so you’re shit out of luck!”

Sniper threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fine, decide what you like…" He looked to Machete. "Is _Shé_ always like this?"

"Always," Luz answered, coldly.

"Okay..." He switched his attention back to her. "You’re only right one out of three times: yes, I learned to shoot in the service of Uncle Sam, but I’m stone cold sane and that’s why I try and accept targets based on more than just the money they attract. I'm not totally immoral.”

“Then why’d you shoot at me?” Machete demanded.

“I didn’t know who you were until after we were on that rooftop; I thought you were just some gardening day labourer… You went to engage a target with a machete and a rifle that you didn’t even notice I'd set to shoot the sky - I couldn't exactly guess you were a pro!”

“But then?”

“After your stunt show at the hospital I did my research. Why do you think I was making such a poor job of killing you from then on? Or did you assume that’s just how I usually operate?”

“Since you ask…” Machete smirked.

“You’re pushing it, friend. Ironically, if Booth actually knew what he was doing when he had that wire around my neck, I would be dead for _protecting_ you. You’re welcome, by the way!”

“Neither of us owes you any thanks,” Luz growled.

“Look, in a bag behind that truck is $200,000 in cash and the details of how to access another million, all courtesy of Mr Michael Booth, Esq. If you want guns, I’ll source them; incendiaries, I’ll build ‘em. You can _not_ thank me for that, as well.”

“Being part of the Network is serious – you can’t just buy your way in!” Luz exclaimed. “You make a commitment to it – to the other people in it – that you’ll help them whenever, however; that you’ll drop everything and fight when the call comes, to the death if necessary.” She paused and looked intently at Sniper. “You make a commitment that means you’ll always work together, never against. How can I trust you?”

“I _don’t know_ – how can you? Aren’t we just going to go around in circles here? All I _do_ know is that all three of us should have died today, but we survived! I mean… is that supposed to tell us something?” Sniper ran his hand over the back of his neck, then realised he was probably now coming across _a lot_ more agitated than he really wanted to. He took a deep breath and dropped his hand down again. “I just came to you to try and do something good out of all this,” he said, simply. “I guess I can’t prove my intentions any more than I already did at the yard.”

Luz stared at him long and hard, then walked around the side of the truck.

“There _is_ a bag here,” she observed.

Machete's expression suddenly betrayed concern. “If that explodes when she…”

“It won’t,” Sniper promised him.

Luz dragged the bag around to where they could all see it, and unzipped the top. “There’s guns in here, too.”

“My rifles, pistol, silencer… I told you I wasn't armed.” Sniper watched as Luz took out his handgun.

She looked to see if it was loaded, then flipped it around and offered it to him. “Don't leave yourself unarmed; just don’t ever point it at me.”

If this was some kind of test, it would count as a pretty transparent one, Sniper thought. Nevertheless, he chose to take her gesture at face value, thanking her and holstering the Colt. This ‘meeting’ was actually starting to feel a little smoother.

Luz whistled. “He wasn’t lying about the money either!” she said. “This would be part of his daughter’s inheritance, you know; she had nothing to do with Booth’s crooked scheming.”

Sniper smiled. “Yeah, well, April isn’t a lady who’ll ever go short of cash... Do either of you know where she is now?” he added, casually.

“You’re really attracted to trouble, aren’t you?” Machete remarked.

Sniper tilted his chin dismissively. “Just askin’.”

“She’s probably at Padre’s church.”

“April’s found religion?”

Machete laughed. “No; it’s because the place is packed with weed.”

Luz straightened up again and folded her arms. “You’re as good as your word so far, I’ll give you that,” she admitted. “And I’m not too proud to turn down money we desperately need for the Network… but you have to know I’m uncertain about you – if you turn out to be playing me, I won’t hesitate to take the same level of revenge you were denied with Booth.”

“Threat accepted,” Sniper told her. “I wouldn’t want to receive the type of revenge I would give…”

Machete and Luz both looked at him expectantly.

“Do you _want_ to know?”

They both nodded.

“Well, from a distance there are a lot of places you can shoot a person to immobilise them and then kill them slowly; take shots every few minutes… or hours… you just need precision.” Describing it out loud did make it sound kind of twisted, Sniper realised, but to their credit Machete and Luz looked uncomfortable and impressed in equal measure.

“Then Booth was lucky McLaughlin got to him first,” Machete commented.

Luz cleared her throat. “Now we’ve come to an _understanding_ about this, I suppose you are – provisionally – one of us, Mr… what _is_ your name?”

“Sniper.”

“Okay, ...Sniper." Luz tilted her head to one side and gave a half-smile. "Against my better judgement, welcome to the Network."

 

-fin-

  



End file.
